


swim in the sunshine

by guileless



Series: catch the breeze [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Intimacy, M/M, Making Out, Summer, bodily fluids in both sexual and non-sexual situations, jaemin's super lowkey sweat kink might be the real star here, lowkey dirty talk?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:35:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24597628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guileless/pseuds/guileless
Summary: “What are you thinking about?” Jeno asks suddenly, his eyelids fluttering open to meet Jaemin’s at half mast, heavy with contentment. Jaemin feels his face heat up, slides his hand from where it’s currently tucked uncomfortably beneath his own side so he can poke at Jeno’s pretty, regal nose.“Why do you have to know so badly, huh?” Jaemin decides to say, trying to be coy. He can’t stop the way his eyes flit to Jeno’s lips, the way they stall at the dusting of lit-up peach fuzz just barely visible above his top lip. He watches, rapt, as Jeno’s mouth twists up into the knowing smile Jaemin loves so much, curly at the corners.
Relationships: Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin
Series: catch the breeze [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1778665
Comments: 11
Kudos: 147





	swim in the sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> basically an ode, a love song for the summer after senior year, and for love and intimacy in teenage years when it's new, incredibly tender and raw and all-consuming (translation: me being a cheesy fuck about nomin and trying to translate that into words). both characters are of age; jeno is 19, jaemin is still 18 because the story's set around june/july. let's also just suspend disbelief and pretend that jeno's baseball team would still be like, preparing for games as summer is beginning. sort of a pwp but also sort of not, it's meant to be more about their intimacy and relationship dynamic than the actual sex if that makes any sense?? idfk anymore dwjjw
> 
> title from 'beautiful' by the lemon twigs, i wrote this to the soundtrack of a lot of bedroomy, minimal-production indie music and i think that influenced the vibe a ton!

It’s the kind of afternoon that makes you feel like you’ve been transported to some other dimension, ethereal and sweet, the kind where the light is so golden and soft that it lights up passing particles of dust so that they glow from the inside out. 

The air is still and full, as if the world has taken in a great warm breath and is holding it, waiting, for someone to walk in and dispel the atmosphere, for Jeno’s mom and dad to return home from work and find Jaemin half draped over their son’s chest. 

The light falls in rays from the wide windows and catches on the tips of Jeno’s eyelashes, illuminating the parts that are so thin and delicate at the ends that they are usually invisible; and Jaemin wants to kiss them, too. Kiss the crinkles on the sides of his eyes when he smiles, suck on that full lower lip that he juts out when he pouts, leave trails of tiny fluttering kisses from the juncture of his shoulder up to where his forehead meets his hairline. 

“What are you thinking about?” Jeno asks suddenly, his eyelids fluttering open to meet Jaemin’s at half mast, heavy with contentment. Jaemin feels his face heat up, slides his hand from where it’s currently tucked uncomfortably beneath his own side so he can poke at Jeno’s pretty, regal nose. 

“Why do you have to know so badly, huh?” Jaemin decides to say, trying to be coy. He can’t stop the way his eyes flit to Jeno’s lips, the way they stall at the dusting of lit-up peach fuzz just barely visible above his top lip. He watches, rapt, as Jeno’s mouth twists up into the knowing smile Jaemin loves so much, curly at the corners.

“You just have that look on your face. Like… I don’t know. Like you want to talk me, or I guess like you want me to pay attention to you but you’re too proud to say it,” Jeno mumbles, turning his face to smush it into the pillow beneath his head. Jaemin, choosing consciously to ignore the second part of Jeno’s statement, already kind of misses the view, and shifts himself more onto Jeno’s chest so only his hips and legs are pressed to the mattress. He can feel the sticky patch of their mixed sweat where his chest is flush to Jeno’s, and squirms, uncomfortable, until Jeno turns his head back to give him the barest hint of a glare. 

“Don’t be gross,” Jeno whines, pulling his hands away from where they rest on Jaemin’s lower back to flop them uselessly down by his sides. Jaemin makes a tiny, indignant sound, digging his chin into Jeno’s sternum.

“I’m not gross, you’re gross. And put your hands back, I liked them there,” he says, scrabbling with his free hand to close around Jeno’s wrist. Jeno’s face finally cracks with a tiny, sleep-muted smile, and suddenly he grabs tight to Jaemin’s waist, ignoring his surprised huff, hauling him up to face level and pushing them until they’re lying on their sides, arms entwined, faces inches apart. Jaemin’s bangs are flopped to the side, a little matted from sweat, a tiny spot of crust clinging under his eyes. His ratty, threadbare camp shirt is folded strangely into his neck, the imprint of Jeno’s shirt folds pressed into his chin along with a few rogue pimples. And still, Jeno doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything or anyone so beautiful.

“You’re stupid,” is what Jeno’s mouth says instead. Jaemin pinches his side, furrowing his brows in discontentment. He presses forward the tiniest bit more when Jeno hisses in pain, looking right into the familiar depths of his eyes, deep chocolate and burnt honey. 

He had been looking into Jeno’s eyes since they were nine years old and exploring their neighborhood for the first time, twisting sidewalks and secret spots familiar to Jeno and so magically new to him, seen them filled with tears and shining with joy, and lit up by firelight when they’d first kissed under the lifeguard tower on the Fourth of July. He’d always been so open and gentle, so easy to read, and Jaemin knew this look in his eyes better than any other.

“Kiss me?” Jaemin whispers, a smile hinting at the edges of the word. 

It’s Jeno who closes the gap between them. They’ve kissed too many times to count, sometimes blooming and magical, the kind that has fireworks behind your eyelids and butterflies fluttering in your fingertips and your stomach, other times quick and harsh like a challenge, and most times just expressions of love as simple and benign as making each other dinner or folding clothes. 

Jaemin loves it this way--when they’re both gentle and tender with each other, soft, familiar lips against his own, tongue soothing over his bottom lip and coaxing open their mouths like little flower buds. His mind is totally fuzzy and content, free to map out the warmth of Jeno’s mouth, and he wraps his arms tight around Jeno’s chest, noting the subtle, new solidity from hours of baseball practice paying off. Jaemin likes him any way, pale and smooth and soft in the off-season, tan and slender in late summer, but this Jeno is usually needier, testier, and honestly just hot, plain and simple, so hot like this, hot when he’s stretching or wearing loose tank tops or folding his fucking laundry, fuck, Jaemin is so whipped. 

He stops licking playfully at the roof of Jeno’s mouth to press kisses from the side of his mouth into his hairline, blowing a little gust of cold air just under his ear to coax a shiver out of him.

“Hmmm. Don’t do that, I’m sleepy,” Jeno warns, halfhearted, shifting them so they’re both lying on the bed again, legs tangled, chests close. It just strengthens Jaemin’s resolve, and he intensifies his attack, licking and sucking along his ear and waiting until Jeno relaxes into it, starting to let out little sighs, comfortably languid but very much awake. Jaemin can play Jeno’s body like a harp, knows just when to bite at his lobe or kitten-lick at the juncture of his jaw and chin to get him hot, and he’s shocked at the way he never gets bored, how the wet curve of Jeno’s mouth as he opens over a gasp is still as enthrallingly sexy as it was their first time fooling around in Jaemin’s basement with Twin Peaks running, forgotten, on the TV. 

“Jaem, you’re really turning me on,” he says, a little petulant, as though he’s upset that this is happening. He’s always been bad at masking what he wants, Jaemin thinks, noting the insistent press of Jeno’s hands on his hips, the subtle twitch of his hips against his thigh.

“Mm, ok. If you really, really want to sleep we can do that,” Jaemin starts, pulling away from Jeno’s neck for a moment to rest his chin on his hand, so he knows he looks cute as fuck. “But you’re hard and I’m hard, and a nap after I get you off just seems like it’d be so much more satisfying, yeah?” He waits for a beat, and yeah, Jeno reaches for him, smiling up at him shyly, fisting his hand in Jaemin’s shirt collar. 

“Well, when you put it that way,” he acquiesces, pulling Jaemin’s head down til their lips are millimeters away, and they’re sharing humid breaths. “You’re lucky you’re so fucking hot,” he breathes, before crushing their mouths together for real, close and intimate and dirty. He lets out a little aborted sound into Jeno’s mouth and nips at his soft lower lip, smirking against his mouth as he feels Jeno’s dick twitch against his thigh. 

Jeno moves away from Jaemin’s mouth, pulling him on top and trailing kisses along his collarbone and then back up under his ear. He arches up, almost imperceptibly, and Jaemin takes the opportunity to slip a hand up under Jeno’s shirt, splaying it against his firm stomach.

“Can’t believe you call me hot when you look like this, fu-uck,” Jaemin huffs, feeling Jeno up shamelessly, dragging a finger over his sweat-sticky skin, around the divots of his abs, down to the fine hair trailing down to his dick. “Love when you bulk up for game season, I don’t know what the fuck happens, like you smell so fucking good even when you’re all sweaty and shit,” and yeah, Jaemin’s chatty during sex, always has been, but he can’t bring himself to regret it when Jeno reacts so beautifully to it, rutting up against his thigh for real as the words tumble out unfiltered from Jaemin’s mouth, his dick hot and hard and insistent through his shitty Target sleep pants, his breaths coming harsh as he licks at the shell of Jaemin’s ear. 

“Ugh, Jaemin, shit, can you--your hand, I just,” Jeno says wetly, and Jaemin thinks for a split second that maybe he shouldn’t love how incoherent Jeno gets when he’s keyed up and this tired, but Jeno rolls his hips down and squirms and bites out his name, high and breathy, and the thought all but flies out the open window. 

Jaemin scrabbles at the hem of Jeno’s pants (no underwear, Jaemin thinks, that’s fucking hot) and yanks them down over his ass, inadvertently catching the hem on Jeno’s cock and pulling down too far til it bounces back up, foreskin glinting with a drop of precum. He swallows Jeno’s little disgruntled noise in favor of kissing him again, before pulling away to spit hard into his hand and starting to jerk him off, doing that fancy little thumb twist Jeno likes just under the head in a wordless apology. It’s hot and wet and just on this side of too sticky, too uncomfortable, dirty and perfect.

Jeno tilts his head back against the pillow and lets out a long sigh that teeters on the edge of becoming a moan, canting his hips up into Jaemin’s grip.

“Want you, too,” he utters, gaze hazy and unfocused as he looks into Jaemin’s eyes. God, Jaemin’s totally gone for him, even the angled shape of Jeno’s chin makes him harder, and oh--he realizes what Jeno’s asking him, and he’s shoving his own boxers and polyester basketball shorts down in one disorganized movement and taking both of their dicks in his hand, stroking them fast and firm. 

He’s reminded of his own spit drying against Jeno’s dick, starting to turn the corner from pleasurably sticky and rough into legitimate chafing. He has just enough presence of mind to push himself up on his free arm and let go of them in favor of scrabbling his hand along Jeno’s messy-as-fuck bedside table, knicknacks clattering to the floor. There has to be something, Jaemin thinks, there’s no way Jeno keeps an entire collection of perfume samples and baseball cards and random lollipop wrappers there and doesn’t have lube or cream kicking around somewhere. He zeroes in on a little squeeze-bottle of Lubriderm, grabbing it just as Jeno starts to get huffy, his hand tightening on Jaemin’s flank, the other trying in vain to continue stroking at them together. Jaemin bats him away, pouring way too much of the lotion all over them and starting to jerk them off again in earnest, and this time it’s maddeningly good, so slick he almost loses his grip on them. 

The rays of sun from the window glint between them, forming shapes of harsh shadow and buttery light, and it’s so fucking sexy, the heat and humidity and Jeno’s quickening little moans and the familiarity of the shape of Jeno’s dick, so perfect against his. 

Jaemin’s so turned on that his vision’s almost tunnelled, his world reduced to just him and Jeno and how bad he wants to come, how bad he wants to make Jeno come. “I love how perfect your dick is, you know, like, holy shit, just like the rest of you, want you to fuck my mouth later, everything, want you to come all over me, I don’t know,” he murmurs, and that’s it, Jeno spasms and comes, spilling all over Jaemin’s hand and his own cock, slicking the way for Jaemin’s fevered strokes, and he’s dimly aware of some landing on his basketball shorts and Jeno’s pants where he’d shoved them down unceremoniously around their knees. 

Jeno’s knees shake through the aftershocks and he twists his hips away, tugging his dick out of Jaemin’s grasp when the overstimulation gets too real. Jaemin’s close, so close, and Jeno takes the opportunity to yank Jaemin’s body over him, buying just enough time to gasp out “Just come on my stomach, Jaem, c’mon,” and there’s a moment of almost transcendental sexual unity when Jeno crushes their mouths together, spit dripping down their chins, and Jaemin’s cum spatters over Jeno’s lowest ribs, perfectly in sync. 

Jaemin flops down hard onto him, cum squelching between them, but he really can’t be fucked to care, floating on a blissful endorphin high. He presses his nose into the juncture of Jeno’s neck and finds that his cheekbone aligns comfortably with Jeno’s collarbone, something he’d never noticed before; he’s always finding these sorts of things, puzzle-pieces where they fit in the strangest ways. Like that they’re always hopelessly exhausted after they fool around, a trait they share that usually makes it easy to forget the fluids drying on them and sleep, entwined, until the immediate pull of post-orgasmic slumber has subsided. 

Jaemin’s already prepared to pass the fuck out, cum and sweat and spit be damned. Jeno cards his fingers through Jaemin’s dark hair, and he can feel the precise curve of his smile against his ear.

“I have to piss,” Jeno says, sudden. Jaemin cracks an eye open, fixing him with the barest of glares. “And you should really wash your hands, or they’ll be, like, a biohazard by the time we wake up, so get up, maybe?”

“I thought you were sleepy,” Jaemin croaks, petulant and unabashed. 

“I am, idiot, but I really really have to pee, like I was kinda scared I’d piss on you by accident when I was cumming but I don’t think it works that way? It’ll take three minutes and I’ll wipe you down,” Jeno reasons. Jaemin remains flopped on him, his eye closed again, a complete dead weight. “We can even sleep naked after, if you like. Cause my mom won’t be home until, like eight, she’s mini-golfing or some shit, so she won’t find us or anything, if you’re worried,” and that’s all it takes. Jaemin rolls off of him and stands up, a little unsteady, and makes to tuck his junk back into his shorts and underwear before thinking better of it and just shucking both off entirely, where they join the pile of other dirty clothes around and under Jeno’s bedframe. 

“Okay, but hurry up or I’ll fall asleep in your bathtub again,” he mumbles, frowning at the visible cumstain on the shorts. Another soldier lost to Jeno’s immense hotness, he thinks.

Jaemin’s long past the point of being ashamed of his body in front of Jeno, standing unabashedly stark naked but for his stretched-out camp shirt, sticking a little in the cum still on his stomach. Jeno looks up at him, his expression open and adoring, gaze trailing from Jaemin’s too-long hair down to the endearing knobs of his ankles as he scoots himself to the edge of the bed to kick off his sleep pants. 

“Your dick is so cute when it’s soft,” Jeno muses, and Jaemin laughs despite himself, shaking his hips to make it sway. 

“Glad to know you like him best when he is very small and there’s cum drying on him.” 

“Shut up, please, never refer to your dick in the third person again or I’ll dump you, I was trying to compliment you,” Jeno whines, standing up to shove at him halfheartedly. Jaemin ruffles his hair, smile wide and lazy, and drops a little kiss on his shoulder.

Walking ten feet to Jeno’s bathroom is always like braving an obstacle course, and Jaemin makes sure not to step on the broken wax pen charger, or trip on the two errant baseballs hidden insidiously under a bath towel. The tile of the bathroom floor is ice-cold on their overheated feet, the sound of Jeno swearing under his breath as he tries to direct a steady piss stream in spite of his still-sort-of-hard dick echoing off the walls. 

Jaemin wets a towel, methodical, starts wiping himself down, then looks up, studying his own soft, sated expression in the mirror. He loves this feeling, loves how all his insecurities seem to wipe themselves away in the face of Jeno’s love for him, a bone-deep certitude that he’s safe and adored. He touches a clean palm to his face, strokes it over the acne on his jaw that Jeno says makes him look boyish and distinct, rubs a finger over the too-sharp angle of his incisor that Jeno loves against his earlobe. 

“Hey, want me to wipe you off?” Jaemin says, once Jeno’s finally finished peeing. He cranes his head back from where he is in front of the toilet and gives a little laugh.

“Sure, but don’t use cold water, please, I’m still kinda sensitive, yeah?” 

“Yeah, yeah.”

He wets the washcloth again with warm water and steps over to Jeno, pressing his whole body up against his back to wipe gently over his stomach, the tops of his thighs, at the trimmed hair above his dick. Jeno leans into him, chest expanding with air as he tilts his chin back for a kiss, and Jaemin’s never been good at denying him what he wants. The kiss is an afterthought, really, a certitude that might remain unspoken, lazy, openmouthed and sweet. 

Jaemin loves how alive Jeno feels, how the blood thrums under his skin and pinkens it, loves the shape of Jeno’s ears and the swell of his cute little ass and the subtle wetness of his still-swollen lips. He doesn’t know how long they stay like that, breathing into each other’s mouths, eyes closed, almost meditative, and he pulls back only when he realizes Jeno’s gone pliant and sleepy under his mouth, leaning more of his weight back on Jaemin’s chest. He turns Jeno around, gentle, and leads him back to the bed, only tripping once on the iPad charger inexplicably plugged in next to the shower. 

He lies down and Jeno burrows up immediately against him, pulling the wrinkled comforter up before shoving it back down in favor of pulling one of Jaemin’s legs up over his own, maneuvering his soft dick to rest against the mattress. He focuses in on Jeno’s smell, musk and sweat and lavender bath salts and clean sheets and deodorant, and on the way their legs look, carelessly entwined. The light’s finally stopped shining in directly through the window, but it leaves sun-warmed patches on the sheets, making the fabric feel alive, and the gentle haze of late-afternoon light makes Jeno’s skin look impossibly softer, tan against the white comforter.

“Hi,” Jaemin breathes, teeth grazing over the shell of Jeno’s ear. His heart is so full it aches, and as he pauses to take in the sound of Jeno’s gentle breathing and the rustle of his hair against the crinkled pillow sheet, he lets himself soak in the delusion of perfect love, the kind he’s sought blindly since he had the barest concept of what it was. He feels contentment settling thick and warm in his veins, images of white picket fences and morning kisses without fear in a kitchen with wide windows and morning glories blooming on the windowsill-- just the way Jeno loves-- flashing before his eyes. He’s still so scared, the edges of his little fantasy torn and folded where his thoughts end and the outside world begins. 

“I love you,” Jeno tells him, voice as soft as the blankets around them. Jaemin can tell he’s already well on his way to falling asleep, his head nuzzled into his favorite spot in the soft hollow of his shoulder and collarbone, puffs of warm air seeping into his skin. 

“I love you too, stupid,” Jaemin whispers, even though he knows he’ll have forgotten when he wakes. He cards his hands through the rough, close-cut hair by Jeno’s nape, letting his eyes drift shut. Jeno snuffles softly and presses a final, tender kiss into his skin.

**Author's Note:**

> i dropped soo many hints and like, background details about nomin's relationship in this au, which is like, very american and banal in a sense... you'll notice this is part of a series and i'm working on fleshing out more of their relationship through more vignettes about them from their past (like the fourth of july kiss i mentioned hehe). 
> 
> also this is the first fic i've ever written and posted in my life and so i'd love to hear what you guys have to think about this! hope you can all join in on my love for these gross teenage boys and their antics :;)


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